Dick and Damian
by Kyd Chyme
Summary: One-shots about Dick and Damian. All pre-reboot. Feel free to send me any types of Dick and Damian prompts. Ch 7: Things That Change
1. Initial Meetings

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

**Initial Meetings**

Dick yawned widely and calmly padded to the small intercom next to his door, "Alfred, do you know why there is someone spying on me?"

Dick kicked off a navy blue blanket that was clinging to his foot and leaned heavily against the wall. He needed a vacation. Or at least an ice pack.

"Spying on you, Master Richard? And welcome home, though I do suggest you take advantage of the front door next time you visit."

Dick threaded his long fingers through his hair and brushed it off his forehead to get a good look at a purpling bruise he didn't quite remember getting. "Thanks Alfred. And yeah, spying. From the air ducts. Right before I face planted on the bed last night I kept thinking in the back of my head 'Tim' –and something about waking up with a make-up-marker combo smeared all over my face." He yawned widely and left the intercom on speaker. Dick chose to ignore Alfred's comment about the front door. Some things were too far ingrained in him to change. Also, the window on the third story was a much closer entrance to his old bedroom.

With a sleepy stumble he grabbed a handful of the blanket pooled on the floor and shuffled a distance from the wall. The messy sheeted bed beckoning his return was looking a lot friendlier than the cold wooden floors.

"I see." Came Alfred's dried voice, "And if not Master Timothy, then who, Master Richard?"

Dick paused and squinted up at the ceiling, as if he could actually see through the material to get a good look at the observer, "Now I'm thinking smaller, which is interesting because I do seem to remember Bruce telling me he wanted to talk to me about some 'new changes in his life'."

"Yes," He admitted, "I seem to recall that as well."

"Last time he said that I lost the privilege of being an only child. Would that 'new change' happen to be a small boy with black hair and a Bruce-declared lack of self-preservation instincts?" Dick closed his eyes and listened for fidgeting.

"You can't possibly have known any of that! You can't even _see_ me!"

Dick smiled. "Lucky guess. Are you going to come down now?"

"No."

"Don't get upset now," Alfred piped in, "Master Dick has been almost certainly spying on the Manor, or else invading Master Bruce's private files. Again."

"What? Can't I just be perceptive?"

No one answered.

"Are you planning on staying up there all day?"

Dick flopped back on to his bed and closed his eyes. "I'm Dick Grayson, by the way."

"I know who you are, _Nightwing_."

He peeled open an eye and frowned. "Alright kid, that's enough. Get down."

"I told you not to call me that." The voice threatened.

"Then give me something else to call you."

The voice hesitated. "Damian."

Dick snorted and stretched out spread-eagle, "Alright, Damian no-last-name, I'm going to eat some chow. Don't break your neck on my floor."

Clearly affronted, Damian banged the inside of the vent. "Don't insult my abilities.

"Fine. Just watch out for–"

I am perfectly capable of navigat–"

"Are you okay?"

"…Breathe one word of this to my father, and I'll kill you."

**I love the Dick-Damian, Batman-Robin team so much… darn you, reboot!**

**Anyway, please feel very, very free to leave a review. Also, any cool one-shot ideas or advice about Dick and Damian one-shots are welcomed to be received by me if you want me to type it up for this fic (=**

**-KydChyme**


	2. Thawing Out and Reassurances

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

**This takes place after Dick takes up the mantle. Bruce is still MIA… Damian is Robin…**

**Thawing Out and Reassurances**

Batman strode through the halls, Robin, in his fully drenched ensemble was slung over his shoulder in what the boy seemed to find to be an extremely offensive manner.

A pensive James Gordon Followed closely. "Is he alright, Batman?" No Batman had ever –as far as he knew– been inside the main building, just random visits to the Commissioner's personal office. It seemed logical, considering Gordon was probably the only officer for years guaranteed not to shoot the vigilante on sight.

The boy struggled stiffly. "I'm –ergh, I'm fine! Put. Me. Down!"

"He'll be okay."

Robin sneezed with a small shudder that seemed to take him by surprise. "I hate water," He announced.

Batman rounded the corner that led into the locker rooms and headed over to the showering area. They weren't alone. In between the rows of blue metal lockers stood a number of Gotham's police force. Batman didn't acknowledge them.

Robin twisted in his mentors grasp and was hit by a wall of tangible steam. "I hate _cold _water." He amended.

Seemingly oblivious to the eyes of the officers in the room, Batman gently lifted his protégé from his shoulder and plopped him on to the tiled ground.

"Stay there." Batman commanded. And then he turned on the warm water. Robin gave an almost inaudible sigh. "When you get used to it, turn it up. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Batman tilted his head towards Gordon as he walked away, giving a final glance back at Robin before entering the hall again. A few of the officers trailed them from a few yards. Gordon figured the rest stayed back to ogle at the close up of the new Boy Wonder. Robin, even _that_ Robin, was a lot less terrifying than Batman.

"I wasn't aware it was raining that hard out there."

Batman wiped excess water from his cowled face, "It isn't." He frowned. "Leave us." Batman ordered, "Now." He didn't look behind them. No one dared to disobey the Batman.

Gordon frowned. The mantle was changing him. He didn't like it.

The Commissioner unlocked his office door and led the way in. As soon as it clicked locked again Batman sighed. "Could you please ask Montoya to watch over Robin? Keep people out of his face?" Batman leaned against an arm chair. "He's had a long night."

"I can tell." Gordon made the call and grabbed a half full coffee mug off his desk.

Batman didn't acknowledge the comment, "He retrieved the hard drive though."

The Commissioner set down the phone and gave Batman a steady look, "I imagine it took quite the beating."

"Yes." Batman turned towards the window, "If I have trouble recovering the data, I'll get my personal Geek Squad to take a look at it."

"You know, he doesn't say things like that."

"What?" Batman smirked, "The Batman doesn't tease?"

He took a sip out of the mug. "No. But I know a few Robin's who did."

Batman smiled the crazy grin from his youth, "And one who doesn't."

"And one who doesn't." He agreed with his own smile, "You're doing good for him though. Once he would have tried to cut off your head before letting you carry him like that."

Batman shrugged. "It takes time to grow up. To heal."

"No kidding." Gordon smiled, "You had me going for a second there though. The grim faced Batman, terror of the night."

He gave a noncommittal shoulder lift, "What can I say? I never could keep a straight face."

A low beep emitted from a communicator at his belt, "Alright, looks like he's done thawing out. I'll keep you posted on the Intel we receive."

"Likewise, Batman."

The caped crusader gave the Commissioner a half wave and turned for the door, his footsteps making no sound against the floor.

"And Batman?"

He didn't turn to face him. "Yes, Commissioner?"

"Let's get that boy of yours smiling like that a bit more."

Batman barked out a laugh, "Work in progress, Commish, but there's hope yet." He paused at the door handle, "Don't worry, he'll be just as silly as the rest of us were." And then he was gone.

Gordon exhaled slowly and emptied the rest of his mug, "As long as you keep that one from being as crazy as you were… Fine with me."

"Assume nothing, Jim."

Gordon spat up the rest of his coffee.

**I can't help it… I love Gordon-Bat interactions…**

**Anyway, please feel very, very free to leave a review. Also, any cool one-shot ideas or advice about Dick and Damian one-shots are welcomed to be received by me if you want me to type it up for this fic (=**

**-KydChyme**


	3. Car Conversations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

**Where Bruce is still Batman, Dick is Nightwing, Tim is Robin, and Damian is the newbie trying to find his place…**

**Car Conversations**

"…and then it exploded and sent egg spatter and super-heated peroxide all over the place. We both still have some scars on our backs from that; though Wally definitely caught the worst of that one…I've almost never seen his Uncle Berry that mad. Or freaked out. Mostly freaked out though."

Dick chuckled fondly and adjusted his lazy grip on the steering wheel. He liked that Damian just trusted him not to get them both wrapped around a tree. Damian tightened his clamped mouth. Or maybe Dick just liked that Damian didn't _voice_ his concerns over his driving habits.

A pause passed through the space between them and Dick opened his mouth again when Damian turned his head towards him.

"You talk a lot." Damian observed slowly.

Dick shrugged and kept his eyes on the road. "I like talking."

"Believe me, Grayson, I can tell." He frowned slightly and turned back to the passing landscape of trees and pale dirt. "Father isn't very talkative."

"No kidding, kid."

"Don't call me that." Damian sat quietly for a few minutes, not fiddling with the radio or drumming his fingers rapidly against the armrest as Dick or Tim would have at that age.

"If father doesn't talk constantly, why would you?"

Dick thought for a moment. "It's called 'compensation'." He decided with a light smile, "We're good at that."

"Hmmm."

Dick squinted at a distant road sign and sighed. He never felt comfortable outside cities. Too much space. "Is there something on your mind, Damian?"

Damian didn't answer for several minutes, and Dick swore he could see the boy's analytical mind sorting through options in the silence.

"It's just…" He inhaled sharply, "Father talks to you, and you're very nearly _certifiable_ –"

"_Thanks._"

"and to your ridiculous replacement –"

"He has a name, you know."

"who can barely walk in _a straight line_, –"

"Tim. _Tim._ And he walks just fine."

"let alone be a proper _Robin_, –"

"And he didn't _replace_ me, per se either."

"and yet I find that he addresses me very differently than he does either of you two and –"

"Give it some time. He was like that with _all of us_."

"it seems completely ridiculous that I am even concerning myself with this, but –"

"The man can't even keep a goldfish alive. Having another kid running around probably worries him."

"despite the fact that I came to live with him for the purpose of training –"

"You're reading way too much into this…"

"I can't help but come to the conclusion that I am not measuring up to his standards."

"That's ridiculous, Damian. You're his son."

" –Which you set, by-the-way –"

"_We all are, _and he hasn't fed any of us to the dinosaur yet."

"and I don't know what I am doing incorr–"

"Damian."

"ectly, but –"

"_Damian."_

"surely _you_ are aware of the problem at –"

"DAMIAN!"

"hand… _What?"_

"Huh." Dick blinked, "I don't think I've ever heard you talk that much. Ever."

Damian growled and crossed his arms tightly. "_Fine._ Don't answer me then."

"Damian. Damian, he wants you to be _happy_… Maybe he's worried, okay?"

"What? That I'm not good enough? Strong enough?" Damian whirled on him, "Because that's ridiculous! I mean, you're barely average height now, and when you were my age you probably looked infantile in comparison to my build."

"Hey, now, I wasn't – No, you know what? Never mind." Dick inhaled, "What I mean is he probably is worried you are a bit too intense. Not in your training" He added before Damian could cut him off, "you need to be that way, but just…"

Damian eyed him.

Dick shrugged and looked him dead in the eye, "You're a kid, Damian. Enjoy it while you can."

…

…

…

"What?"

"Are you _messing with me_, Grayson?"

…

_Moment over._

**Okay, well. Never mind. Feed-back/ prompts are wonderful. And appreciated.**

**-KydChyme**


	4. Good to Know

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

**This takes place after Bruce goes MIA; they are assuming he is dead. Damian is not yet Robin and Dick is not yet Batman…**

**Good to Know**

Grayson paced back and forth in the large entry way, fully suited up as Nightwing and drenched with rain water, "What makes you think you can just run off into the night like that? Patrolling without any proper training or back up!"

Damian leaned in defensively, his narrowed eyes following Grayson's almost familiarly odd restlessness, "I have plenty of training –more than you did at my age!"

He threaded his black clad fingers into his dark hair, "I told you 'no'! I…" He paused for a moment, the words coming out of his mouth seeming to strike him oddly, as if he was the wrong person saying them. As if _he_ should be on the receiving end of them.

Damian chose to ignore what that meant, "Someone has to be out there!"

"Not. _You_. It's not safe Damian. You can't just run off whenever you want to."

"Then who else? _You're_ nothing! Just a pathetic, over sexed circus brat who's managed to delude himself into thinking he belonged at my father's side. Your softness made him _weak_."

Grayson allowed for his eyes to lock onto Damian's unwilling gaze. The expression on his face was disconcerting. Almost no one ever looked him in the eye, and if anyone ever did, it was never with an expression like that.

"Is that really what you think, Damian?" He was stock still, frozen like an observant cat. It made Damian wish to take a step back and find a blurry shadow to melt into.

"_Yes."_

His usually fluid voice went down into a darker tone, "Your father had his secrets, and sometimes he was one manipulative son of a bitch, he never could stand liars. Or cowards."

_Coward. _Of all insults to throw at him, this was one Damian would never stand for, bodily harmed be damned. This was about pride. About _honor_.

Damian slowly reached back for the sword strapped to his back, "I'm no coward, Grayson. Or liar. I am _the son of Batman_."

"And I am his legacy. But here you are, questioning me."

"_Because you weren't out there tonight!"_

Grayson unfroze and placed a single palm against his eyes, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that Damian was a few muscle twitches away from attempting to slice him into confetti, "Damian, _Bruce Wayne_ is _missing_. He'll be presumed dead soon. Can you understand what that means?"

"_Batman_," he growled, "is _dead_."

"-No, he isn't- and I have duties and Bruce's son to _look for him_. Not to mention his entire company has landed on me- all while I'll probably be under suspicion _for his death._"

Damian froze, real concern passing through his masked eyes. "Grayson, my father is dead. He's gone."

Dick seemed to hear something odd in his voice, "I know, Damian." He said slowly, "But it'll be okay."

His eyes narrowed, looking odd against the sound of his suddenly softer voice, "Batman, Grayson, he's gone too."

Dick's head snapped up as if he just understood exactly what Damian was implying. He barked out a humorless laugh, "Damian. _Damian_. What your father was –was a man. _Bruce Wayne_ is a person. Batman– and all that he stands for –that's immortal. Gotham needs a Batman, and maybe it always will, so here we are. Here I am. And I'm not going anywhere."

Damian released the hold he held on his swords corded grip and folded his arms in a contemplative stance that made the edges of Dick's mouth upturn for the first time since his adoptive father went missing. "Alright, Grayson. We'll give this a try then. And I –I take back what I said about you being unworthy. Obviously you were the most competent Robin to have stood by my father."

Dick shoved his arms across his chest to mirror Damian's image, complete with his head cocked to the side. "So glad to have your approval. And the other stuff?"

"Oh, no," Damian assured him with a firm tone, "I meant all of that." He walked out of the room, hood suddenly flipped up around his ears and a swish to his cape.

"Good to know."

**Hey all. So a special thanks to **pekuxumi **for the keyword "circus brat". I know this probably wasn't **_**exactly**_** what you had in mind, but it definitely got my creative juices flowing.**

**Feel free to leave a review,**

**-KydChyme**


	5. A New Friend

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

**This takes place after Dick becomes Batman and Damian becomes Robin. Dick is still trying to get Damian to warm up to him… and to chillax…and teach him to be "good"-ish.**

**A New Friend**

Dick was sitting on the black granite of the kitchen counter, a half-eaten apple gripped in one hand while the other drummed lightly against the stone. "Alfred" He said suddenly, "what do you think about getting Damian a pet?"

Alfred didn't turn from his place in front of the stove, "A pet, sir?"

"Yeah, something to keep him company." He cocked his head to the side until a lock of hair fell into his eyes. Annoyed, the blew it out of his face, "To feel companionable about."

The butler paused, the sauce pan on the stove sizzling angrily, "It sounds perfectly awful, Master Dick."

"Why not?" But he wasn't expecting any other reaction, really. "I thought it'd be good for him to feel protective of something." He paused for it to sink in, then, "_Responsibility is the key to maturity."_

Alfred turned to Dick could briefly see his annoyed features. No one liked to be quoted at. "Quite frankly, sir, I think an ordinary animal would absolutely fear him."

"Alright." He said reasonably with a bit into the apple, "So what's a not-ordinary animal then?"

"The he and the dinosaur seem to get along quite well, Master Dick,' Alfred deadpanned, "maybe you should look along those lines."

Dick swallowed with a little cough, "Ha-ha. That's very funny, Alfred."

"I try, Master Dick, I really do."

**. . . **

Wally West was thoroughly exhausted and fully prepared for the oblivion of unconsciousness when the cordless phone he could have sworn he threw behind the couch earlier started going off under his pillow. He groped the fabric for a second and clicked the call accepted button without looking, "Hellwah?" He mumbled in to the pillow.

"What do you think about Robin getting a pet?"

Wally groaned.

"Is that a 'No'?"

Wally made a contorted face at the phone before answering, "Well, hi to you to! How are you? I'm fine! How are the kids? Great! So, what's up buddy?" And then he dropped back into the red fabric, face down and snoring.

"Wally?"

**. . . **

Dick blinked as Wally appeared in front of him, his uniform torn a little at the temple and smeared with already dried blood over an already healed would. "Didn't you have that turtle?" Dick asked, "How was that?"

Wally sighed and disappeared in a breeze, only to return an instant later, bomb in hand.

"You mean Newt?" He asked so quickly it would have been nearly unintelligible to anyone not familiar with it, "He was fine when he didn't bite me. And he pretty boring. Never did _anything_." He paused, "Are you going to disarm that or am I going to have to run that somewhere else?"

"I got it, I got it." Dick bent down and clamped off one of the wires, "So what find of animal would be good for Robin?"

Wally cupped his jaw in the palm of his hand and sat down crossed legged, his gloved hand pinching one of the wires Dick pointed at him to take, "Well, something smart, for him…and mean."

"Mean?"

"Yeah, something that everyone else won't want to get close to."

The bomb made a soft beeping sound. Dick frowned and cut one of the wires. "Sounds wonderful." The beeping stopped.

"Yeah." Wally agreed, "Hey, have you considered using that dino DNA Bats had locked up?"

**. . . **

Damian marched into the cave's entrance with folded arms and a firm stance, "Grayson?"

Dick turned away from the computer screen and rubbed at his sore neck, "What's up, kid?"

"Don't call me that." He sniffed, "I've acquired an animal."

"You got…a pet?" Dick couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.

"_Yes_," Damian confirmed without comment on Dick's expression. The kid was starting to let him get away with things like that so long as he was out of the Batman uniform.

Dick snapped his mouth shut at the kids guarded expression and turned away from him. "Okay."

"Okay?" Damian repeated.

"Yeah, 'Okay'." After a moment dick cleared his throat, "So, what is it?"

Damian's voice broke through again, the tone one Dick hadn't ever heard from his mouth, "You don't care?"

"Of course I do," he said slowly, "hence the 'What is it?' part."

"Oh."

"So?"

"It's a cat." Damian blurted bluntly.

"A cat?"

Recovered, Damian rolled his eyes, "Yes, Grayson, a cat. Well, a _kitten_." He amended.

A cat.

Well, duh.

"Alright, cats are fun. Where did you 'acquire it?" He paused, "Hey, wait, Selena didn't give it to you, did she? Because once upon a time –"

Damian threw up his arms in front of him like he was warding something off, "Don't finish that. I've heard _that_ story, and once is more than enough." When Dick closed his mouth, he added, "I found it in a gutter early this morning."

"Wasn't it pouring rain?"

"Yes."

"It's lucky it didn't get swept away."

"I _know_." Damian said impatiently, "Anyway, I was on the pavement and it jumped out of the gutter and attacked my foot."

Dick raised his brows, "Attacked your foot?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, he sounds perfect."

"Glad to have your approval."

There was the pause again, like Damian was waiting for something else to be said.

"So, what's it's name?" Dick fished.

"I –I hadn't thought of that. I suppose he'll need one."

The silence stretched on.

Dick cleared his throat, "You know, when I was little there was this lion in the circus –vicious thing. It hated everyone but the trainer's daughter." Dick rubbed a set of long faded red gouges on his left wrist, "The thing almost bit my entire hand off once."

"Why didn't it hate her?" Damian asked.

Dick shrugged, acting a little on the unconcerned side, "Because she was never afraid of it."

"Oh." Damian said absently, "What was its name?"

He tried not to smile, but a little half grin popped up anyway, "Dragos."

"Dragos." Damian repeated. "I like it." With that he turned on his heel and a few moments later Dick could hear his booted feet stomping up the stairs, presumably up to his room and 'Dragos' the cat.

"Even I, Master Dick" Alfred's rang unseen from around the corner, "know enough Romanian to be aware that 'Dragos' means 'Precious'.

Dick let out a barking laugh. "Maybe _that's_ why that lion hated everyone."

**So it's been a while. My apologies. Anyway, special thanks to **CHiKa-RoXy **for the animal idea. I know it's not Ace, but I always associated the Bats with cat like qualities and thought Damian especially would appreciate them. **

**Feel free to leave a review,**

**-KydChyme**


	6. Can't Win Them All

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

**This takes place after Dick becomes Batman, Damian is Robin, Bruce is MIA, and assumed dead by all, Tim is a senior in high school (18) and Tim and Damian are trying to get along… and the ages all seem very un-cannon and wrong, but they suit my purposes for this particular 'shot…**

**Can't Win Them All**

"Wayne residence." Dick murmured distractedly into the receiver as he watched Alfred dump a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chunks into a mixing bowl.

"Mr. Grayson?" A patient voice inquired.

"That's me." Alfred shifted his stance, effectively blocking Dick's view of the bowl. He frowned. " Who's speaking?"

"It's Principle Carlson, from Tim's school."

Dick closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uh, is this about what happened the other day? Look, I know you're new to the school, and this probably doesn't reflect very well on him, but really, Tim's a great kid. Abnormally good." Distantly, he could hear voices arguing upstairs, irritated tones and the occasional 'No!'. "He just can't stand a bully –he's feels like he's just as bad by _not_ taking action and –"

"I remember the speech you gave, Mr. Grayson," The voice remained patient, lined with a cautious air Dick didn't quite like, "and I understand. All his teachers have backed you up on Tim, and I've decided to let it go. This time."

"Oh." Dick's hand dropped from his face. "That's…good news then." He squinted his eyes open slowly. "So…Is there something else I can help you with?"

Carlson paused. "I wanted to talk about _you_, Mr. Grayson."

"Me?" Some this thumped on to the floor upstairs, resounding heavily enough he was surprised it was accompanied by a sudden crash. He narrowed his eyes at the staircase. "I graduated a _long_ time ago, Principle Carlson."

"Not so long ago. Mr. Grayson, how old are you?"

The foundation of the house shook in a sudden, violent surge companioned by muffled shouts that rang out in two very distinctive high and low tones. "Good God," Alfred murmured with a practiced mix of exasperation and deadpan before taking off to inspect the damage, leaving Dick with a parting warning not to touch the cookie dough while he was gone. Dick gave a pious nod.

"Excuse me?" Dick sounded as Alfred exited the room.

"Twenty-six, twenty-seven?" The man listed.

Dick shifted the phone to his other ear and reached for the bowl of cookie dough Alfred left unattended. "Twenty-three."

He paused again, surprised, "That's _very_ young."

"Okay." Dick dug out a new spoon from the cabinet door at his hip and shoveled it into the dough, one eye on the kitchen's entry way. "So?"

The voice curved with a new edge, "So you're a very young, single man trying to raise not one, but _two_ boys, and..." He cleared his throat, calm regained, "I just imagine that's a lot of pressure."

Alfred's voice rang out from above, a little higher than he was used to, "_Alright, alright. Master Timothy, please grab the fire extinguisher from the hall, and let's get you down stairs, Master Damian."_

Dick tightened his grip on the phone and scrunched his nose at the scent of smoke making its way towards him. It smelled a little off. Like…Eggs? And something else. Something bitter and burning…

Dick cleared his throat. "We're managing just fine, _thank you_."

"_Let me grab the cat first!"_

"_Master Damian, please! I'm sure the cat –"_

"I'm sorry if I seem to barging in your personal life–"

"You are."

" –but really, all I'm worried about is the boys."

A smaller explosion went off, shaking the walls and causing small bits of white to flake down from the ceiling. Dick frowned and leaned over the cookie dough bowl protectively. "_My_ boys, Carlson. Not yours and not your concern."

"As Tim's Principle, I assure you–"

"Look, I won't lie to you. This isn't easy, and it's all a bit terrifying. But honestly, I'm more worried about the homicidal cat my youngest dragged into our house mauling Tim than I am about him going on a violent rampage or something. It's hard without our father, but I'm an adult now and I am more than capable of taking care of my brothers. As long as they are healthy, happy, and not dragging feral animals into the house, I say I'm winning." Dick stuck a chocolate heavy spoonful of cookie dough into his mouth and pulled out the utensil harshly, "Are we done here?"

He sighed. Carlson meant well. Dick was just getting tired of people –the media, his friends, even the _League_ – questioning his ability to take care of teenagers while they stood with smiles and nods of approval when he took on the mantle of Batman without worrying if he was good enough for _that_ job.

"Homicidal cat?" He repeated slowly.

Dick frowned. "Well, I can't win them all. Good night, Principle Carlson."

**Running. Out. Of. Ideas. Please help. I have SOME stuff still just hanging out, but I'm not feeling the inspiration with them, and I'd so very much love to keep this story up… Ideas? Themes? Moments? Anyone? **

**Also, heh, not quite as amusing as I was hoping it'd be.**

**Feel free to leave a review (and advice/plot ideas/ stuff),**

**-KydChyme**


	7. Things That Change

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

**This takes place after Bruce comes back. Talk of Batmanship has not come up. Bruce has been back at the house for maybe a few daysish, so right, directly after. Ish. **

**Things That Change**

Bruce watched Damian move through the shadowed halls like a ghost. There was a slightly drawn look to his face, one the Bruce couldn't remember seeing on him before.

This wasn't the little… _boy_ he remembered. He had changed physically of course, taller and more muscular, his rounded face thinned out to that of a young adult's.

But something's didn't change. Had it been Dick or Tim wandering through the house this late he might have followed them, just to make sure they were okay. Or to make sure they weren't sleep walking, something they both did in their teen years often enough to make Alfred wish out loud to lock their door –from the _outside_.

No, with Damian it was about uncertainty. He didn't trust this person, this boy, in his home. In his mind he was still Talia's son, just like the first day he had come into his life. Assassin. Violent. Rash. Uncontrollable. Even inhuman.

Bruce looked him over. His hands were empty except a dark pillow, probably something he'd taken out of his room, and he was wearing cotton sweat pants and a plain t shirt whose sleeve didn't quite cover a fading bruise on the upper part of his left arm. His feet were bare. Not exactly combat gear, but Bruce knew the boy was a living weapon. He would expect the same thing if he put any of those kids out there in the streets unarmed.

So what was different with Damian?

Ten years old wasn't so old to be irreparable as a human. When Dick had first come to him, only a few years younger than that he had been angry and violent, absolutely hell bent on revenge.

Once, years later, he had even confided to Bruce that without this new path as robin, he would have become a killer. He was so sure of it, and Bruce believed it.

And what a killer he would have been.

Maybe he wasn't on Tim's level of genius, but Bruce didn't really believe _he_ was on that plane with the boy either. No, with Dick it was all about the unexpected. He just viewed the world in a different way, the kind of way that sometimes made him miss the obvious things in a normal person's life. Things and ideas most people took for the granted truth become a source of Dick's endless questions.

Bruce may have been the dark knight, but in all truthfulness it was Dick who could really get into a villain's head.

He wondered if he still worried about going insane, losing himself to the darker aspects of his mind. As a teenager that fear was always in him, though he never told Bruce a damn thing about it other than to make a light hearted joke on the subject occasionally, eyes tight and a false smile plastered on his face.

Now, here in the darkness of the halls, watching the boy stride away from his shadow he wondered what Damian feared. Was he human enough now to fear about losing his humanity? It was an awful thought of him, but there was no shame in the mind, only speculation.

Failure would be at the top, if any, he decided. Fearing that he would fail. Maybe fail his mother. Or maybe even dick.

Dick.

He wondered about that too. About the easy way dick could turn to his back was facing the boy. Not once had he checked over his shoulder or held any posture that indicated he did not trust the person behind him not to stick a knife between his shoulder blades.

Bruce had even told him, hours and hours after the odd sick feeling from _traveling_ again had left his stomach, "I'm surprised he's still here." But what he had meant was, "I can't believe he hasn't tried to kill you." Or, "I'm surprised you haven't kicked him out."

After all, what else does a volatile kid do but grow up into a volatile adult?

But he shouldn't believe that. That people were born to some good or evil in their lives. Hell, if that was true Dick would have become the killer he was bred and destined for, if not with the Owl Assassins, then in his own right. And then Tim. Tim and the domestic life he should have led. Of course, he might have been content with that, probably would have been perfectly suited for it. Grow up and make things happen in the world. He was too smart to have not been an impact player.

But there was still Jason to consider. Bruce had found him committing a crime without remorse, and look at what he had become.

Still, all the wrong things for all the right reasons. Grey area with a border of black. But he could never tell the boys he could see it that way, just in case.

Of course there was Stephanie. She had made a terrible Robin, but her heart was always in it for the right reasons. But if it had been Druce out there all these years instead of Dick, Stephanie Brown would never had been allowed for her suit to see the light of the moon again.

But Dick wasn't Bruce, and it had been Dick here the last five years. Five years with the cowl. Five years with this boy.

So he watched.

It almost disturbed him. The way Bruce could see himself in Damian. Not ever in the same way he could see himself in his boys. His sons. Dick's drive to change things, Jason's need to take action, or Tim's sense of duty.

No, nothing like that.

No.

It was in his muscle structure and the basic shape of his body, so much more lean than his own and holding every promise of being the lithe stature of his mother one day rather than the mas bulk Bruce had always associated with himself. But there he was still in the proportions and definition.

Oddly it almost reminded him of Dick's. Almost.

He remembered the first time the child had locked his eyes on Bruce's. Same color and heavily fringed with lashes. It was a child's eye. Too large for the face and centered with Talia's slightly sloping nose.

Out of everything, it bugged Bruce most that he had his eyes.

He wondered if one day those eyes would lock on his own before striking out at him.

Damain slowed his stride to a smooth pace, every bit as silent as the confident walk down the hall. A walk of ownership. On anyone he would have said a walk of belonging.

Not on this one.

Bruce narrowed his eyes and made his move when Damian stopped at one of the slightly ajared doors. Dick's room.

When he had been a child the door was always shut. Nothing changed when he grew into a teenager or even later when he visited as an adult. Dick's door was _always_ shut.

Damian pushed the door open lightly while Bruce eyed the way he tightened his grip on the pillow. Finally Damian bit down on his lip and entered the room with a sigh, no longer seeming to care if he was heard.

"Do you ever sleep, Grayson?" His tone was conversational, but lower volume than most people's speaking voice.

A laugh came from inside, easy and tired. "I could ask you the same thing." Again the laugh, "Careful not to trip over Tim."

Damian's head seemed to turn to the left on its own accord, and then down. Bruce froze. "He fell out of his chair." Damian remarked. The idea seemed to pull at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah. It was weird."

Damian's head came up again, "You drugged him."

Bruce leaned in to the silence coming from the room, then, "He needs to sleep. He _never_ sleeps."

"Neither do you."

"That's different."

"Not really."

Silence.

Dick sighed. "Nightmares, Damian?"

Silence.

"Why don't you sleep here tonight, okay? Boys night in."

He finally passes the threshold, "That sounds preferable to lying awake for the next six hours."

The lights click off.

"Grayson?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you." It shocked Bruce that he didn't even pause to consider the words. They came naturally from his mouth, comfortable and casual.

"Any time, kid."

"Grayson?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't call me that."

And Bruce swears he can _feel_ the smile blossoming on Dick's face.

But all that does is make Bruce frown.

…

**Okay, cool. So, feel free to send any comments or ideas/prompts/themes my way. Me gusta, me gusta. Hope you enjoyed.**

**Need. Soda.**

**-KydChyme**


	8. Things That Don't

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

**Once again, this takes place after Bruce comes back. Talk of Batmanship has not come up. Bruce has been back at the house for maybe a few daysish, so right, directly after. Ish. **

**Things That Don't**

Batman was not a killer.

No.

He wasn't a killer, and tonight he would not become one. Not over the assassin's boy. But he had done other things to people. _To criminals, _he amended. Maybe things seen as worse than death to some. He'd seen fingers lost during crooks confrontations with him, twice even an entire arm. Men have lost their sight in explosions. Some had even been paralyzed. Once not completely by accident. This boy would probably see that as a fate worse than death. Dick would too.

But he didn't know. Not really. Bruce Wayne did not know the boy. Did not know his _son_.

Maybe the boy would finish the job for him. Be reckless like Jason in the face of danger.

Like Jason.

Hell, even like Dick. Sometime he swore it was a miracle _that_ boy made it too adulthood.

Dick.

Dick loved this child, and for the world he couldn't see why.

Dick loved Tim. _That_ he could see. He could _understand_. They were brothers. Laughed together. Looked out for one another.

But this? The boy –_Damian– _was something else entirely.

Not evil. Maybe not even bad. Just _other. _ Damaged or contaminated…

But not with blood. Just with upbringing.

A shadow came up behind him, very visible in the light of this area of the cave, and mute. Bruce had trained him well. The thought had crossed his mind before that maybe he was trained _too _well. But it was Dick, and he had to trust him. Trust him like he trusted Alfred. Like he trusted the dead. But sometimes it was still hard. The shadow turned into a body that stood across from him in a careful stance.

Dick pulled out his Excreta sticks with narrowed eyes, "Can I help you with something Bruce?"

"_Can I help you with something Dick?" The boy look sheepish, the blush on embarrassment could be seen extending all the way down to his collar even in the dark of the room. _

"_I just couldn't sleep."_

Bruce didn't peel his eyes from Damian, "No."

They stood there for a moment, waiting.

Then, "Would you fight me? For him?"

Dick nodded, "Yes I would."

Bruce returned the nod. "He's damaged Dick."

"_Nightmares again?"_

"_Yeah… I just… Bruce I think I'm going insane. I feel like I'm always on the edge of a cliff, just a breeze away from becoming like one of _them."

"Weren't we all? Hell, aren't we all?"

"Not like this."

"What? Bruce- _Bruce." _His voice became steely. _Different._ "_You_ think you're the only one who can walk a fine line? Half the time I think I belong in the asylum myself. And we both can name quite a few people who agree with _that_. Tim cracked a half dozen times while you were gone and threatened to take _me_ down himself. He's a walking time bomb. Babs is so violent these days I'm wondering how many times she really _has_ crossed the line, because we all know it's happened, and Steph has so many personal issues that her heroing work is a _break_. And Jason…Jason. He got better, if you'll believe it. Better after you left. The one you declared a failure healed and kept his head straight when I needed him. But here you are, declaring Damian unworthy."

His voice stayed even. Calm. Toneless. "I didn't say that."

No emotion.

"But that's all he hears Bruce."

Maybe he couldn't really trust himself anymore either.

"He's not my Robin, Dick. I didn't choose him."

"No. No you didn't. But I did. He's my Robin."

Dick sighed and let Bruce have his silence for a moment.

"Brue?"

"Hmm?"

"What were you thinking about when I came in here?"

Bruce turned away from him, pacing back into the shadows near the stairs, "Lines."

…

**So, I've been MIA for a while, yes? Well, WELCOME TO COLLEGE. I'm so busy and there. Is. So. Much. Reading. And I like reading. A lot. But not this. Dear goodness and other crap, not this reading.**

**K, well, im gonna do one mas "Things that…" in this time frame after this… and that's all I go planned out, so send ideas.**

**I said…**

**SEND IDEAS.**

**Thanks duded,**

**-KydChyme**


	9. Things That Hold

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.**

**After Bruce comes back. **

**Things That Hold**

"Robin, just let go."

"Shut up!"

"Dami…"

"I HATE you. Shut up shut up shut up!" But his hands were cramped and coiled like rusted springs and he was _tired_. Truly, for the first time he could remember, _done. _ Everything hurt. He'd been in worse pain, there was always worse, but everything about this was different. This wasn't him pushing his body to keep himself alive. This wasn't a silly training exercise mother had set up. This wasn't a killing dance. This, all of this, the pain and tired and _fear_ was about someone else.

And he was failing. God help him, but he was.

Damian reached around with the hand that had been gripping the metal rail he had the side of his face plastered against, groaning when the pressure against his hip doubled against the barred rail. "You're going to have to grip harder Nightwing."

"I… can make it. By. My. Self. "Grayson inhaled sharply. _Spastically._ Damian had seen the blood spat out through his mouth between gasps. Maybe a punctured lung. That was bad. Internal bleeding? This was all very, very bad.

"You're lying to me." He accused, "You said you wouldn't lie to me _ever_."

"Am. Not."

But Damian only squeezed tighter because when it came to the bottom of everything Dick could do, lying was not his forte, just as figuring out the truth was not Damian's.

Grayson passed out twenty-three seconds later. Damian had counted out each one timed with a stream of blood that ran down from his forehead to his chin, dripping to the floor in time with his count. One second, one drop. Splat.

He gives Grayson the credit that maybe, maybe he could have made it. Made it with luck and muscle memory and good timing. But that wasn't good enough in Damian's book. He couldn't risk being left alone now. Grayson needed to stick around for him. Realistically, he was the only thing keeping the line open between Father and him and…

And he couldn't just leave him like that.

Damian wouldn't let Grayson do that to him.

He wasn't allowed to.

It wasn't fair.

He had allowed this to happen, and he really, really shouldn't have.

But Grayson was a weakness now, and losing him, whatever he had once believed, was no longer an option.

Bruce found him slumped against dented metal rails, staring down the shaft below through a semiconscious haze as Dick's weight strained his body against the bars. His shoulder jutted awkwardly from the joint, and a gash on his forehead bled freely.

He looked bad.

He looked a lot like Dick had nearly two decades ago. Bruce didn't like the comparison. Didn't like that he saw it.

He wasn't sure if he even sure he liked anything anymore.

A lot of things had changed.

Bruce knelt down slowly. If it was been Dick or Tim or even Jason at some point, he would have crouched down next to the boy closely enough that the ends of his cape would have brushed over Robin's boots. Instead he found himself balanced on the balls of his feet, a full arm length between them and his cape brushed off one shoulder to give him easier access to the Batarang supply at his side.

"Robin." But he didn't turn in recognition.

A hand on his shoulder. He was a lot bigger than Dick had been at that age. More like Jason than Tim too.

He would not be a small man.

If he lived to see manhood.

"Robin." Louder this time. More authority. The tone he used when Jason had begun to lash out or when Dick would get distracted on missions. Bruce wasn't sure he ever even used it on Tim. Tim had been a good Robin, good in a way Jason couldn't quite reach, even when he had strived to, and good in a different way than Dick, who had always been more confused and dark than he would ever admit to. More than anyone would ever really believe. But Damian. Damian Wayne. Damian _al Ghul _was a different breed entirely.

Bruce hesitated some, though he wouldn't ever admit it, and reached out to Robin's shoulder. He took in the failing reaction and odd roll of the boys head, catching the fabric of his cape as he slipped into unconsciousness and his body began to slide past the bars and head to the edge.

Even if Dick hadn't been on the other end of Damian's body he thinks he would have saved the boy. He wouldn't have let Damian die because he was a Robin, even if Bruce himself hadn't chose him, and because if he hadn't Dick would probably never speak to him again.

And really, he had allowed this to happen, and he really, really shouldn't have.

But Dick had always been his weakness, and losing him, whatever he had once believed, was no longer an option.

**Dear goodness, I think I really kinda like this one. Neat-o. **

**Feel free to leave behind some feedback, help, comments, and IDEAS, PROMTS, AND THEMES FOR ME TO WRITE.**

**Thanks all,**

**-KydChyme**


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